


The Boy in the Tower

by bluetoast



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hearing Voices, Nightmares, Young Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 09:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8051623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: Five year old Ben just wants to sleep. Snoke, however, has other ideas.Written for HC Bingo - hostages





	The Boy in the Tower

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for: abuse of a child, vomiting

There was nothing to be afraid of.

How many times had Ben heard that when he was put to bed? Everyone had relayed the same phrase to him over and over; from his nanny, his parents, Uncle Luke, even Threepio told him that there was nothing out there in the dark. It often came with another statement, and each one was nearly as terrible as what was out there.

_You're five years old, you're a big boy, not a baby._

_It's your imagination, kid._

_Think about something nice instead._

_I don't have time for this._

Ben's decided he hates the last one most of all. The droid looked under his bed and checked his closet, and declared that they were both monster free. But he didn't understand that what was scaring him wasn't in either of those places. It didn't have physical form at all; it was a voice. A wretched, raspy, wicked Voice that seized him, night after night, whispering in his ear terrible things that he couldn't escape from. 

The more he tried to hide, the more adamant the Voice became.

He could not conquer his fear of monster in his head and he had no idea how to banish it either.

_I'm five years old. I don't know what to do._

He tightened his grip on his stuffed bantha, pressing his face into the soft fur, hoping that just for one night, the voice will leave him alone. There aren't any windows in his room; that was to keep him safe from a possible political attack. But Ben had no idea what that was. He figured that there must be some 'bad guys' like on those holonet shows he's seen – well, that he wasn't supposed to watch but Dad did and spending time with Dad was a treat. No, if what he feared was a physical stranger, he could point the monster that terrified him out. If only his parents and uncle could _see_. The Voice had no face and he couldn't explain the terror.

Shouldn't Mama and Dad see his fear the way they can tell if he's washed his face and hands?

He's exhausted, and he can't escape the Voice when he's asleep; that's when it comes. It chases him through collapsing cities, burning forests, and has held him underwater, cackling that there is no escape.

_They'll never understand you._

“No.” He winces and squeezes his toy harder, this was new. The Voice had never spoken to him while he was awake. Somehow, it's worse now. At least when he was awake, he felt somewhat safe from the cold, high tone and cruel words. “Leave me alone.” His speaks in a pained whimper. 

_Poor little Jedi baby, left behind and no one watches over him._

He had to stand up to the Voice. He could be brave and defeat it all on his own. Then Mama and Dad would be so proud of him. “They do!” He spat out, shoving at the Voice in his mind. “Go away!”

_Your parents don't care and you can't defeat me._

“You're wrong!” He bit at his hand, wondering, holding back the cry that wants to issue forth – _if I start screaming, mama and dad will come._ Yes. That's what he needed to do. Scream. Yell. Something. Maybe if he screamed and his parents ran in, they could hear the Voice too. He was awake, not dreaming, The Voice was real and it was here. In their home. In the one place that he was supposed to be _safe._ He took a deep breath, ready to let forth a bellow when a wretched, horrible truth starts to sink into his heart. Mama and Dad aren't in the apartment right now, they went out; leaving him with his nanny. They had to go to something Important. What did that even mean? He had heard that word a hundred times; Mama's work was Important. 

_Your mama thinks the galaxy is more important than you._

Oh, Ben _hates_ the voice. The Voice is worse than mushy vegetables, having his cheeks pinched, soap in his eyes, and dressing up all combined. Why did the Voice chose him? Then again, he wouldn't wish this torment on anyone. He dives under his covers, curling up into a ball, trembling and willing the speaker to leave him. “That's not true! Mama loves me!” 

_No, she doesn't._

“You're lying!” He screams into his sheets, slamming his fist into the mattress, wishing this would end. He thought of what Uncle Chewie would do the Voice. Oh, what his wonderful, amazing and invincible wookie uncle could do to his tormentor....

_I could kill your Uncle Chewie with a mere flick of my wrist._

“Leave me alone!” He wails, a gulping sob that heralds the inevitable tears. Ben didn't want to cry. He wants to be brave, to stand up to the Voice and make it go away for good. He relinquishes his hold on his bantha and blankets to cover his ears. “Please.” He swallows, “Please leave me alone.” 

_You'll never be free from me, Ben Solo._

He blubbers, hating his weakness. “Why can't you let me sleep?” 

_Go ahead and rest, little Jedi. I'll be waiting._

It's a battle he cannot hope to win. Ben surrenders to his urge to cry, but doesn't come out from under the covers. He's not safe under them or on top of them. He's in terrible danger and there's no one here to help him. They don't believe him. They'll never believe him. The pain in his chest, the dreadful, wretched feeling of finality; he's all alone and no one wants him settles into him. He'll wake up in the morning and his parents will just act the parts; they don't want him, they don't love him – and just as the realization hits him, something that's somehow worse happens.

He gets sick in his bed. 

He throws back the blankets as he retches, emptying his stomach onto his bed sheets. He's almost gagging when the lights of his room suddenly come on and then there's nanny, lifting him out of the mess and he staggers over to the trashcan, something a wretched shade of yellow spilling down from his mouth and into the metal bin.

Between the Voice, the tears and the puke, Ben just wants the planet to swallow him whole. 

“Oh, you poor lamb.” Nanny touches his cheeks, and to his relief, she isn't angry. “Let's get you cleaned up.” She hands him the basket to hold as she leads him towards the fresher, and he's sick two more times before they get there.

“I'm sorry.” He manages to say before she's quickly and efficiently stripping him of his pajamas, running water in the bath. Nanny holds out a tissue for him to blow his nose on, which he does, still feeling horrible. Not only does he feel awful, but he'd made such a terrible mess. “I'm sorry.” 

“There's nothing to be sorry for.” She gives him a smile. “I know you didn't mean to get sick.” The water shuts off and he obediently climbs into the tub without being asked. The water is blessedly cool and he sniffles as he sits down and Nanny sets a cloth on the back of his neck. “Are you going to throw up again?”

Ben swallows, his throat burns and his mouth feels rancid; but his stomach is no longer boiling. “I think I'm done.” 

“All right then.” She smooths down his hair, brushing it out of his face. “I'm going to get you some clean pajamas, you stay right where you are, okay?”

He sniffles and nods, looking down at his hands for a moment, then sank them under water, pressing his palms against the floor of the tub. The coolness rushes upward, enveloping him comfort and a strange sense of safety, although he feels that right now, he's more vulnerable than he was five minutes ago. 

When Nanny returns, she cleans him quickly and soon he's in fresh pajamas, wrapped in a light blanket and left to rest in peace. As Ben fell into the familiar dream of racing through the woods, he felt for the first time that he wasn't running away – but towards whatever it was he sought in the wilderness

His battle with the Voice tonight had ended in a draw. He'd defeat it for good some day. 

For now, Ben just has to survive and grow strong.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello on Tumblr @soldierofhalla17


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